


From the Nights in the Atelier

by pallorsomnium



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Baby Mutants, Courtship, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Post-Coital
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pallorsomnium/pseuds/pallorsomnium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of Charles/Erik or general XMFC ficlets I've written on tumblr. Descriptions of ficlets found in the chapter summaries. Most are Charles/Erik.</p><p>1. Brian Xavier || 2. stage magicians || 3. fixing a tie || 4. fumbling, awkward courtship</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He Has Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen (or hint of future pre-slash), G, canon AU.   
> Prompted by [kannibal](http://kannibal.tumblr.com): "Brian Xavier" and "He has your eyes."

Brian sighed as he sat back on the park bench, basking in the afternoon sunlight as he cradled the precious bundle he held against his chest. He looked down at the baby in his arms-- _his_  baby, his _son_ : Charles Francis Xavier.

Charles had fallen asleep in the time it had taken for Brian to carry him out of the house into the gardens, though he doubted the baby would be asleep for long. He carefully stroked the back of his finger against Charles' soft cheek.

Sure enough, he watched with a widening smile as his son scrunched his nose before blinking open those big blue eyes of his. Charles gurgled at him, returning his smile and flailing his arms out. Brian laughed as Charles caught hold of a lock of his hair.

"Careful there, Charlie," he murmured, wincing as Charles gave his hair a sharp tug. "Don't want your father going bald now, do you?"

He eased Charles' grip off his hair, allowing his son to wrap his tiny fingers around his index finger. Charles kept on smiling, and Brian's mind was filled with light and a bubbling sensation.

He'd known almost right from the start that Charles was _different_. Charles was a quiet baby, never crying out late into the night or throughout the day. Often, Brian or the staff would sense right away if Charles needed anything, be it food, a diaper change, or just simple attention. And when Charles was happy, everyone around him felt a lightness in their head, a lift in their own spirits.

Brian was proud to have such a special son. His wife, unfortunately, was a different story.

Sharon hadn't wanted a child in the first place, but Brian had, and both their parents had started asking for grandchildren. She’d reluctantly agreed to give Brian a child, but nowadays, she wouldn't even look at Charles, leaving his care to Brian and the staff.

At the thought, his mood dampened a little. He hoped Sharon would change her mind eventually. Charles was their son after all, their own flesh and blood. And he couldn't see how anyone _couldn't_  love Charles, so bright and special that he was.

As if sensing his mood, Charles whined, squeezing Brian's finger a little tighter. Brian couldn't help but smile again, holding his child closer to him.

"Hush, darling, everything is all right," he whispered, pressing his lips to Charles' forehead.

"Good afternoon, Master Xavier," a soft voice greeted him, and he looked up to see Edie approaching him from down the walk, pulling her young son along by the hand.

He smiled at the two before replying, "Good afternoon, Edie, Erik."

Edie Lehnsherr and her husband Jakob had come to Westchester for work, fleeing a tumultuous Germany and bringing with them their little son Erik, who'd been the same age Charles was now. It had been a wonder, watching Erik grow from baby to toddler, stumbling along on two feet and learning to speak. He looked forward to watching Charles do the same.

“How is Young Master Charles today?” Edie asked.

“He’s been wonderful. No complaints at all,” Brian answered. He scooted over a bit, waving at the open space on the bench. “Please, feel free to sit.”

Edie dipped her head briefly before joining him on the bench.

“Erik, do you want to sit?” she asked her son. Erik shook his head. “Very well.” Edie looked down at Charles and smiled. “He’s just a good boy, the young master.”

“He is,” Brian agreed, wagging the finger Charles had a hold of to make him giggle.

“Erik,remember your manners. Say hello,” Edie chided.

Erik pouted, but said, “Hello, Master Xavier.”

“Hello, Erik. Have you met Charles yet?” He tilted his arms a little so Erik could see Charles more clearly.

Erik stared at Charles, wide-eyed and fascinated. Charles let go of Brian’s finger to wave his hand at Erik, gurgling happily. Erik glanced at Brian, as if asking for permission, and Brian smiled encouragingly. Slowly, Erik held out a hand within reach of Charles, who immediately grabbed Erik’s hand, waving it happily as Erik looked on with wide eyes.

“He has your eyes,” Edie remarked softly.

“He does, doesn’t he?” Brian beamed, pride and happiness filling him as he was hit anew with the thought that he had a son to call his own.

He and Edie exchanged smiles before settling into a pleasant silence, watching as Charles continued waving Erik’s hand and Erik continued gazing at Charles with a rare smile on his lips.


	2. Checking Out The Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles/Erik, T, modern!AU with powers.  
> Prompted by [turtletotem](http://turtletotem.tumblr.com/): "feuding stage magicians"

The first time Erik heard of the Professor, he wanted to laugh aloud. What self-respecting magician would call themselved the _Professor_?

He wasn't so amused when a third of his regular customer base defected, flocking instead to this _Professor's_ show.

After that, he tried to find otu as much as he could about his new enemy. The Professor performed largely for a younger audience than Erik did: those under the age of twenty or so. According to a flyer, the man excelled at _illusions_  -- whatever that ment; _all_  stage magic was based off illusions after all. Erik, unfortunately, didn't know what the Professor looked like. The only photo available had the man's face in shadows for the sake of _mystery_  and dramatic _flair_.

And so, he was forced to fork over thirty dollars for a ticket to his enemy's own show -- all in the name of research, of course.

For the show Erik had chosen to watch, the Professor was performing in a small hotel ballroom, the room filled with round tables with candlelight before a large curtained stage. Erik sat himself at a two-person table in the middle of the room, not too far or too close to the stage. It felt rather strange, being on the opposite side of the curtain before a show, listening to the murmurs of the people beginning to gather for the show.

Then Erik noticed the man standing on the stage, dressed in a black tuxedo and completely ignored by everyone else in the room. He was easily the most perfect man Erik had ever seen, with pale smooth skin, barely tamed dark hair, obscenely red lips, and impossibly blue eyes.

Erik wouldn't have noticed the man at all -- which would have been an utter travesty -- if not for the curious, warm buzz in his head whenever he looked at the stage and the expensive, well-crafted metal wristwatch the man wore.

Suddenly , the man turned his head to look right at Erik, and Erik was trapped in the bright blue of his eyes and his wide smile.

 _Why,_  Erik, _what a pleasure to finally meet you_ , a voice drifted into his head, all warm, friendly and 100% RP British.

Erik would have melted at the sound of that voice, if he hadn't realised a split second later that the man he was staring at was a /telepath/. He hurriedly built steel walls around his more personal information, though not shutting the man out completely. If anything, that made the man smile even wider.

 _Thank you for that. Less trouble for me and much less painful than being kicked right out_ , the man murmured into his head.

 _You're welcome_ , Erik replied rather curtly. _Who are you? Since you're already in my head as it is._

_My apologies, where are my manners? My name is Charles Xavier, though perhaps you know me better as the Professor._

And it all made perfect sense then, how his ene--how the _Professor_  could "excell at illusions." A telepath could create any illusions they wished. Erik would have accused the man of cheating -- if Charles hadn't looked so damned _perfect_ , with his eyes and that smile and those lips.

He watched in amusement as Charles flushed and fidgeted slightly in his spot.

 _Thank you for that,_  said Charles, sounding breathless. Then he seemed to collect himself, the flush in his cheeks diminishing and his eyes becoming hooded. _You should come visit me after the show. We could...compare notes._

Erik repressed a snort even as a bolt of lust rushed through him like electricity.

 _Is that the best line you've got?_ he teased. _I'm rather disappointed._

 _You caught me by surprise. Normally I'm much more prepared._  Charles pouted at him, and Erik wanted to tear across the room and bite down on that protruding red lip to hear the man gasp.

Instead, he settled for staring intensely at the man and projected his desire, watching as Charles once again flushed under his gaze, even as he sent a heated look back at Erik.

 _I would love to, really,_  Charles said. _Unfortunately, I really should get ready for the show._

_Then I'll see you after the show._

_Lovely. Now,_  please _don't distract me too much during the show. You can find me here afterwards._  Charles dropped directions to his dressing room into Erik's head before disappearing the stage curtains.

Erik grinned wolfishly. He wouldn't _try_  to distract the man, but he could hardly be blamed for any stray -- _lusty_  -- thoughts that might appear while watching Charles during the show.


	3. An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles/Erik, M, modern!AU with powers.   
> Prompted by [rozf](http://rozf.tumblr.com/): "fixing a tie"

_We should be heading back soon,_  Charles projected into Erik's head. He was too out of breath to try and speak aloud, not to mention how all his muscles felt like they'd been turned into jelly. Truthfully, he didn't feel remotely up to returning to the charity event they were supposed to be attending.

Erik chuckled softly, his lips still pressed to Charles' temple. _Can you even move?_  he teased and shifted a little, if only to emphasize to the way every inch of Charles' body was pressed against Erik's.

_I can certainly move,_ Charles argued. _I just don't want to. There's a difference._

_If you say so, Charles._

_I do say so._ To prove his point, Charles mustered up the energy to push himself off of Erik to stand properly. Then he had to stumble, knees almost buckling as he tried to pull his pants and trousers back up to his waist.

Charles scowled at Erik's wide, smug grin. Erik really shouldn't be talking, considering the way he was leaning against the wall for support. Granted, Charles couldn't really complain, not when Erik looked like the very picture of debauchery: the discarded condom and Charles' soiled handkerchief by his feet, his tie askew from when Charles first tugged him into this closet; his hair mussed from Charles' fingers; his trousers and pants still down around his knees; and his white dress shirt not nearly long enough to hide his cock.

Charles groaned, resisting the urge to fall to his knees and suck Erik off. They've already been gone for much too long, unfortunately. Erik seemed to have followed his train of thought and laughed at him again, amusement and post-coital satisfaction spilling out of him. He did straighten himself up without another tease or complaint, though, and within a minute or so, they were more or less ready to return into polite society.

Charles sighed, fixing his tie and jacket. "Well then, ready to head back into the fray?"

"Indeed." Erik smiled wryly, and Charles caught him eyeing the side of his neck.

Charles squeaked, slapping a hand over the spot.

"Honestly, Erik, did you leave a mark?" he hissed, feeling the distinctive tenderness that told him that yes, Erik had indeed left a mark.

"You were hardly complaining at the time," Erik replied with a toothy grin. Then he leaned forward to press a kiss to Charles' temple, startling Charles out of his impendent fussing. "Come, weren't you saying we needed to return?"

Charles blinked, then started himself back into motion when Erik reached for the door.

"One moment, darling," he said, tugging on Erik's sleeve to turn him back around.

Erik looked down at him with a raised eyebrow, but Charles simply reached for Erik's tie, fixing it so that Erik looked as deliciously put-together as he had on arrival to the event.

"There, now we can go." He smoothed his hands down the lapels of Erik's jacket, just because he could, relishing the feel of Erik's chest under his fingers.

He looked up to find Erik smiled softly down at him, filling Charles with such warmth and making him lightheaded again. He held Charles' hand in his, threading their fingers together.

"Well then, let's go then."

The door swung open with Erik's power, and they stepped out to finally re-join society.


	4. Kochyli and Candelabra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles/Erik, T, merpeople AU  
> Prompted by [velvetcadence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetcadence): "awkward, fumbling courtship"

“Off to see your human again?”

Charles paused, turning to look at his best friend. Emma leaned against the closest glowlight post, her arms crossed under her breasts and her long white tail fins fluttering delicately in the ocean current.

“His name is Erik,” he reminded her. “And yes, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Emma rolled her eyes at him. “You should just give us all official leaving notice. You _do_ intend to take him as your lifemate, don’t you?”

Blood rushed into his cheeks faster than Charles could blink.

“Y-you don’t think it’ll be too soon, do you? I mean, we haven’t actually discussed anything. I don’t know if he’d say yes.”

“Charles honey, you’ve been circling around each other for two years. It’s definitely _not_ too soon,” Emma remarked. “You’ve already found your _kochyli_ , haven’t you?”

Charles touched the small bag secured around his hips almost on reflex. Inside, a most perfect conch shell he could find in the last two lunar cycles sat wrapped in several layers of kelp blades. Every time he’d visited Erik since finding the shell, he’d brought it with him, but he’d never found the courage to present it to the man, even if Erik didn’t know of the merpeople’s customs.

Emma’s eyes softened – a rare sight indeed – and a half-smile graced her lips.

“I see you have,” she said. “Go on then. What are you waiting for? I’ll inform the queen.”

“I haven’t decided—” Charles gave up protesting, Emma already gliding out of hearing range in the direction of the palace.

After brushing his hand once again over the bag holding his _kochyli_ , he swam off in the direction of the shore and Erik.

 

Erik’s house was a small but homely cottage just past the rocks bordering the beach.  A chair sat on the porch with a terrycloth robe neatly folded upon its seat. The robe was Charles’, claimed after so many visits to shore, and he pulled it on over his naked body before traveling the short distance to the door.

He paused to stretch his legs, still re-accustoming himself to walking on land, before knocking on the door. Then he frowned, not hearing no reply the way he usually would.

He tried the door and found it unlock.

“Hello? Erik?” There was still no answer, and a frisson of worry ran through him. He started his way through the cottage, clutching the collar of his robe.

Charles found Erik at his worktable in the sitting room, fast asleep with his face buried in his folded arms. He sighed, worry leaving him as a smile tugged at his lips. He reached for the throw draped over the back of the couch and wrapped it around Erik’s shoulders, careful not to wake him.

Curious as to what kept the man up so late, Charles peered over Erik’s shoulders at the worktable and saw a silver candelabrum resting on its side, Erik’s fingers just brushing against its base. He inhaled sharply at the sight and couldn’t resist picking up the metalwork. He marveled at the craftsmanship, running his fingers carefully over the delicate details Erik had carved into the metal. The candelabrum was a stunning demonstration of the fine control Erik had over his power with metal.

So lost in seeking out all the details etched onto the candelabrum, Charles didn’t notice Erik waking until the man sat up and said his name in a strangled-sounding voice.

Charles looked away from the candelabrum to grin at Erik, who looked adorably sleep-mused and befuddled, though he wasn’t sure if he was imagining the edge of panic in Erik’s voice.

“Erik. Good morning. I hope you don’t mind, I let myself in,” he said.

“I—no, that’s fine. It’s good to see you again,” Erik said, rubbing a hand over his eyes and looking more awake. His gaze fell on the candelabrum in Charles’ hands.

“This is beautiful, Erik. It’s definitely one of your best works,” Charles remarked, offering back to Erik.

“You think so?” Erik asked, and Charles noticed the way his hands shook as he took the candelabrum but he held the metalwork gently as if cradling something precious.

“Is it another commission?” Charles asked, but Erik shook his head.

“It…” Erik paused, and Charles realized he looked _nervous_ the way he hadn’t seen Erik since the first few times they’d met. Erik swallowed. “I—my family has a tradition, he said, speaking as if each word was a heavy weight. “We make something using our Craft to be presented as a gift to the person—the person we wish to spend the rest of our lives with.”

Charles felt his heart drop like a stone to the bottom of his stomach. The pain that shot through his chest was like nothing he’d felt before, and the bag still sitting against his hip was like a lump of iron burning his skin. His throat tightened, leaving him unable to speak except for a strangled “oh.”

“I—do you like it?” Erik asked, looking at him as if Charles’ opinion was of utmost importance to him.

“I do,” Charles forced his throat to work. “I—I believe the one you’ll give this to will be very pleased.”

“Oh, then—” Charles stared blankly as Erik slid out of his chair, got down on his knees, and held the candelabrum up to Charles. “I’m unsure of the customs your people have for this, but it would please me greatly if—if you would accept this, as my request to court you.”

_Oh. Oh._ Charles blinked, feeling suddenly lightheaded. The weight in his stomach was gone, his heart fluttering in its place his chest, but he couldn’t find the words he wanted to say. He felt like swimming somersaults, like leaping out of the water the way the dolphins did, but he couldn’t when he stood on two legs on land.

“Charles?” Erik’s voice called his attention, reminding him he still hadn’t answered. Erik still knelt on the floor, looking at him with bright eyes, his brow wrinkled with worry.

“Oh Erik, yes, yes of course I will,” Charles finally said. He joined Erik on the floor, since his legs were already feeling like jelly. He took the candelabrum, set it gently on the floor, before practically throwing himself at Erik, wrapping his arms around Erik’s neck.

They ended up scrawled on the floor, Erik unprepared for Charles’ weight. Erik wrapped his arms around Charles’ waist and grinned up at him, looking the happiest Charles had ever seen him.

“I’m glad,” Erik said. “I wish to spend my life with you, Charles.”

“And I with you, my friend.” Charles pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He still had to give Erik his _kochyli_ , but for now it could wait. He was content to rest in Erik’s arms for a little longer.


End file.
